Acrylic on canvas
152 x 101.5 cm
Albeit, the Middle Ages were pregnant with God, the factual transcendental appetite abated, while the sweetness of female corruption was undoubtedly on the ascent. Stuck in a timeless twilight, the clergy were confronted with the reality, that they were nothing but biological impostors. Yes, the heavenly imperialism aimed, for his monks and cardinals, at a biological neutrality. Nevertheless the silence of reflexes was overcome and volcanic flashes of life started to cross the lucid horizon. Here we see three monks self macerated, frozen in their barrenness, who are giving way to their very own re-birth of a self-hood, leaving petrified tears behind in order to join the lustful glory called life. On the top part of the painting we see four beautiful women engaging playfully with the three monks. The outer two women remind us of American pulp illustrations. On the lower left we see a blonde woman crying, simbolising our collective subconscious. In front of al this profligacy and anarchy, the House of God has been sinking slowly into paralysis.